


Appearances

by Missy



Category: Cinderella (1950), Cinderella II
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Family Fluff, Humor, Painting, Romance, Talking Animals, relationship difficulties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-25 01:22:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21347956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: Anastasia, now married to the Baker and working in his shop, is presented with the opportunity to become an artist's muse.  When the amount of time this requires begins to strain their relationship, it takes some wise advice from some special friends to help her.
Relationships: Baker/Anastasia Tremaine (Disney)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28
Collections: 2019 Disney Animated Movie Exchange (DAM Exchange)





	Appearances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rosencrantz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosencrantz/gifts).

Anastasia nervously fixes her bodice before fluffing her hair out and trying very, very hard to look properly squared up. It was a habit that her mother had bred into her every action and her every thought, but as the wife of a baker who spent her days merrily slinging food for her customers, beauty wasn’t something she often thought about.

Cinderella’s invitation to the palace has her thinking –something she’s been doing more and more lately, though, since she married her husband.

Dirk. Saying his name was like singing. Now she knew why Cinderella liked to trill with the birds so much.

But now she stood in the kitchen, rubbing tomatoes onto her cheeks to stand in for rouge and trying to brush the yeast from her hair. Dirk – who had his best clothing on already – had sold the last few hot, yeasty loaves of bread that they’d made that afternoon, and pocketed the coins while whistling.

When he kissed her cheek, he came away licking his lips. “Tomatoes?”

“I didn’t have any blush left,” she admitted. What a thing to admit – her mother would have put up a hue and cry about it.

“Do you think I look good?”

“I always think you look good,” he said. And she knew he meant it, but she had to resist the temptation to pinch the tip of her nose or turn sideways to examine her body in the looking glass. It wasn’t vanity at work but anxiety. She wanted to do Cinderella proud. And she definitely didn’t want people to look down on her husband – not that Dirk, who dressed elegantly and spoke with great pride of his wonderful wife, who was so good to their customers – would ever be looked upon as a second-class citizen.

She didn’t think about it until they were sitting together at dinner. Seated across from Anastasia was a man with a thick mustache and a curious expression upon his face. Anastasia found herself nervously tugging at a forelock, trying to keep herself from sweating. She felt so exposed somehow. Was this how Cinderella felt every single time she went to a ball?

“I’m sorry,” the man’s voice came lilting across the table. “But I am fascinated by your features.”

Anastasia wanted to melt and crawl under the table. Was he looking at her too-podgy nose? Her flat feet? Her square shoulders? 

“Mister Le Plume is an artist,” said Cinderella from the head of the table. “He’s painting the official royal portraits for Charming and myself this year.”

“And once I’m done I’ll be in need of a muse,” he said. “My dear, would you be at all interested?”

Her eyes widened. She threw a look at Dirk, sitting there beside her in his fine suit. He shyly beamed with pride and happiness.

“I’d be glad to.”

****

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But Anastasia soon learned how terribly time consuming posing for a portrait could be. She found herself sitting patiently night after night, allowing herself to be painted as the candle flickered lower and her bones ached, eyelids drooping closed from the strain.

It had gotten to the point where she’d be sleeping all day at the bakery, missing out on life with Dirk. The tension between them built and built, until she walked into their bakery late at night to find him asleep and alone at the mixing station. He was holding a wilted flower in his grip.

The guilt that filled her was enormous enough to send her walking through town late at night. She stopped at that big fountain at the center of town, flopped to a stop, and bawled her eyes out.

“Hey, it’s Cinderelly’s sister!”

“What’s wrong, Miss Anastasia?”

Anastasia brushed aside her tears and glanced up. “I…” she began – and then realized that the small creatures who were watching her were mice.

The mice could talk.

The mouse was talking to her.

Anastasia screamed, and it was such a shrill sound she clutched her own ears. 

“Woah, easy there!” one said.

“We didn’t mean to be a bother,” said the other.

“I’m okay, I was startled.” She scrubbed a hand over her face. “I keep leaving Dirk alone at night because of my model commitments and I feel bad about it. I feel like I’m losing him.”

“Aww, no way could you lose a sweet fella like Dirk! He’s only got eyes for you,” said the chubbier mouse.

“And if you listen to him going on about you you’d think you were some kinda goddess,” said the other mouse.

“She’s purty,” said the chubbier mouse.

“Eh, I like my girls with long tails,” said the other mouse.

“Just tell him how you feel in the morning,” said the chubbier mouse.

“Thank you,” she said. “Next time I’m at the palace, I’m going to leave extra cheese for you.”

“Oh boy!” said the thinner mouse.

“Cheese!” echoed the chubbier mouse.

Anastasia made a mental note of it. If she was one thing at all, she was good to her word.

And she had Dirk to thank for that.

****

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She arrived back at the bakeshop past daybreak, while he was busy in the kitchen rolling out the morning’s first bread.

“I’m sorry I was gone all night.”

He hummed, keeping his eyes on the dough he was rolling out. 

“I know I haven’t been paying much attention to you, and I’m sorry. So sorry..” Tears came to her again, and all at once Dirk turned away from the dough, his hand gentle upon her shoulder.

“No, it’s all right – I understand…”

“I’ve never been asked to model for anyone,” she said. And then she could feel the tips of her ears going bright red. She’d always been good at accepting and absorbing attention, but the confession was embarrassing. “You’re the only person who’s ever seen me as beautiful.”

He shook his head. “They just aren’t paying attention.” He wrapped his arms around her and she fell into them, sighing at the warmth that coursed through her. “I’d never stand between you and something that makes you feel better, Annie. Do you believe me?” 

She nodded, sniffling.

“In fact,” he said. “I asked your artist friend to draw something. We’re gonna put it right out in the main shop, where everyone will see it!”

He hoisted a canvas up from the floor, where it had been resting, still a bit shiny from a fresh application of paint.

Anastasia squeaked her delight at what stood before her. “Oh, Dirk!” she folded her hands over her breast and ran toward him, embracing him with all of her strength. She had no idea if this was her stepsister at work, or if Dirk had done it with the surplus money they’d made from the Midsummer fair. 

But above their mantle, hanging handsomely over their fireplace, was Le Plume’s portrait of her in the green dress – the one that had started the stir for her picture, the one that had made her a star at court, now home forever to preside over their joy.


End file.
